


feel the love that radiates (all will be well)

by Mx_Carter



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gotham fluff but still fluff, Ridiculous amounts of fluff, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Carter/pseuds/Mx_Carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good night in Gotham, circa 4 am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel the love that radiates (all will be well)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catsaremyboyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/gifts).



> For Cats, my bestest buddy. Hope you like it babe.
> 
> Title from All Will Be Well by The Gabe Dixon Band

The cat Damian stumbles across in an alleyway near the end of patrol is pitiful, really. It’s tiny, bedraggled, disgusting with its crust of Gotham grime. And yet it’s more trusting than a Gotham stray really should be, going straight up to him and rubbing itself over his gauntlets, purring deep and rumbling. Before Gotham, before Mother had very forcefully removed him from Grandfather’s care and had brought him to his first true family, he would have thought the tiny thing stupid and weak for trusting so quickly.

  
Now, he can’t help but respect it, for finding kindness and brightness in such a dark, unkind world.

  
He takes it home, introduces it to Titus, Alfred Jr and Batcow, and gives it a bath. Names will be decided forthwith.

  
Such strength should be rewarded, after all.

~~~

  
Tim lands lightly on the streetlight, perching in a way that makes his brain churn out a few puns that Dick would be proud of. The lenses of his goggles pierce through the curtains and show him the heat signature of his target, sprawled over the bed, and of the woman standing to open the curtains and the window. Mariana, expensive escort, part-time drag king and one of his favourite informants, winks at him and presses a finger to her lips, before sashaying out of the room. Behind her she leaves the sleeping form of a man wanted for five counts of statutory rape and seven of just plain old rape, with a few battery charges thrown in for good measure.

  
Smile like a knife edge, Red Robin swings onto the windowsill, pulls out his bat-zip-ties, and sets about bringing Martin Verger to justice.

  
Whoever said vigilantism doesn’t pay?

~~~

  
Through gracious serendipity, Steph and her mom arrive home at the same time. They hug at the entrance to the stairwell and walk up together, grumbling about the broken lift and their respective nights. Mom allows the title of Weirdest Night to Steph, who had to stop the new Condiment King from holding up a McDonalds, but she keeps Funniest Story, because another idiot decided, for god knows what reason, that ketchup was an acceptable substitute for lube. Neither of them want to know if the two events are connected – they’re content to stick with the ‘Gotham is weird as shit’ defence.

  
Mom has to work on Sunday, but not till late afternoon, and Steph doesn’t have classes or, miraculously, that much to do. So they stay up a little later to make 4 a.m. waffles, eating them piping hot and smothered in Nutella, leaning against each other like a couple of soldiers.

  
Before she finally goes to bed, Mom cups Steph’s face between her calloused, antibiotic-scented hands, and presses a firm kiss to her forehead. “My little hero,” she says softly, eyes shining with pride.

  
Steph goes to sleep happy, and dreams of soft things all morning long.

~~~

  
The ice-cream thing is large and delicious, and free. Cass tries to pay six times, but is stopped by the woman at the till, who tells her that heroes eat free. This woman reminds her of Alfred. Cass decides not to argue with her anymore.

  
Besides, she did good work. A gangfight stopped before anyone got badly hurt. A woman saved from a mugger, and the mugger given a Neon Knights card. This will help him, Cass is sure. The man was all desperation and please-my-kids, and her family will help him. He didn’t deserve jail. Tim has let them all know that Martin Verger is going to prison, and Barbara told her she could be done for the night, but would tell her if there was anything else to do. Also she told her of a good ice-cream place close to her current position.

  
Yes, Cass has been a hero tonight. She has saved people, and no one got hurt on her watch. And because David Cain is in an ARGUS jail cell and because she has grown to a place where she no longer feels him pressing into her mind, she is allowed to be not-perfect. She can take breaks for large ice-cream things, and watch sunrises, and cry.

  
Cassandra Wayne is a hero, and she eats her ice-cream completely free of guilt.

~~~

  
Shoulda known. You feed one stray, next morning every stray in the damn city’ll be pawing at your door. Kids aren’t much better.

  
“Upsies, Mr Hood?”

  
The kid can’t be older than three, and his mom, who before woulda busted a gut pulling the kid away and apologising for the bother, is grinning at him. Goddamn, give one kid a piggyback ride and the whole damn neighbourhood knows you’re a soft touch.

  
Still, so long as the people he wants to put the fear of the Hood in stay fearful, what’s he got to lose. He ain’t Bruce – not that Bruce is strictly speaking a joyless statue, but that he doesn’t let people see him as anything else. He doesn’t let people see him be happy.

  
Fuck it. He scoops the little monster up, and can’t help but grin at the happy baby noises and the small, solid warmth in his arms. He bounces him a little, murmurs snatches of Spanish endearments, gets a bright happy little giggle for his troubles. Life is good.

~~~

  
The trail of women Dick is leading through the sewers to safety have slowly lost their fear, both of their captors and of him. The Birds are dealing with said captors in the manner that the Birds deal with things – thoroughly, competently and looking fabulous as ever while kicking heads in – and Dick is proving safe enough. He chats to the several who know English, and after he’s sure they’re almost all Thai, tries out his few words on them.

  
The line loses its formation a little as almost everyone laughs at him, and one woman almost falls into the sewage she’s cackling so hard. They then proceed to mock his pronunciation until he’s pouting and pleading them to take it easy on the poor American boy. A couple of ladies take pity on him enough to correct him, and they start teaching him a few more useful phrases. Near the back of the line, someone starts a K-pop singalong.

  
In the interests of the mission, he should probably tell them to keep it down, but frankly he doesn’t care enough. No-one’s following them – Dinah gave the all-clear a minute ago – and everyone’s giddy and buzzing with adrenaline comedown and sheer fucking relief. Let them have this – he thinks it’s beautiful, the rise and fall of voices as their conga line of safety weaves its way to the nearest secure exit. Beautiful, how all these tired, scared, battered women can find it in themselves to sing, and laugh, and mock a vigilante’s mangling of their mother tongue. He’s so goddamn relieved, and so goddamn happy he could sing with them. He would, but he’s had enough mockery for one night.

~~~

  
Coffee is life, one of Babs’ college friends used to say, and life is coffee. At the time, Babs was still keeping her body a temple, and stuck with fruit juice and bracing morning jogs. Her dad had joked that she was no daughter of his.

  
Now, she’s really inclined to agree.

  
This could be considered her first cup of the day, if you take into account the fact that a vigilante’s day starts as late as they can make it, and Oracle has long ago decided that her day begins at 4 am, with her sleep schedule as a bunch of perfectly-timed naps. So this is her first cup of the day and dammit, she’s gonna enjoy it. It’s warm and very slightly sweetened, and fucking delicious.

  
Babs glances at her screens long enough to check that nothing else has come up, that everything’s winding down for the night. Everyone appears to be safe, and successful, and even pretty happy. A good night, then. A damn good night, and now Babs is going to set up her various monitoring programmes and be done for the night.  
The Birds are returning from their night out, chattering happily on the comms as they compare bruises and the number of traffickers they personally brought down. Zinda is claiming victory for this one, though Helena was close.

  
Babs smiles and sips her coffee, and leans back against the padding of her chair. After a few minutes of savouring, she tucks the cup into her special cup-holder and wheels herself off to the bedroom to sleep the sleep of the virtuous and very tired.

~~~

  
The lights of Gotham are spread out before her and, like this, it would be so damn easy to love this city. Kate perches on a sturdy gargoyle that she named Freddy a few years ago, and admits that from up here, Gotham looks beautiful. She’s all glitter and gothic architecture mixing with shimmering glass and steel.

  
From here, you can’t see the grime, or the deepness of the alleyway shadows, or the people. Hell, she’s high enough that even the smell is dimmed. It really doesn’t look like the murder capital of the USA.

  
Honestly, she finds it a bit boring.

  
Gotham may be pretty from up here, but she’s not as knock-‘em-dead lovely as she could be. And no, Kate doesn’t mean that she likes the filth, or the crime, or the poverty or the corruption or any of the other plethora of things wrong with her city. She just means…

  
Gotham is lovely because there are good people in it, diamonds glinting from the muck. Gotham’s beauty lies in the centuries of bitter, thick history wrapped in every brick, and in the hope that shines in every skyscraper. Gotham is crazy, and vicious, and possessive, the worst person ever, but she is also slowly but surely dragging herself out of her filthy bedrock, and stretching her way to the stars. Gotham may have needed a whole family of vigilantes to heal her sickness, but she made those vigilantes out of her own black blood and gave them each other. There’s beauty in that – Kate sees it, even if no-one else can.

  
She’s sure Gotham’s preening right now, and her way through the familiar buildings feels just a bit easier.

~~~

  
Bruce tugs his gauntlets off, lays them on the desk, and surveys the monitors.

  
Kate is wending her way home, scarlet and black swooping through the air. The one camera Babs lets him keep shows her back as she vanishes off to nap, her busy electronic empire ticking along happily until she returns. Dick has just reached the agreed safe exit, and is helping the women who followed him out of their cages up into the light, his real, bright smile wide on his face. Jason is nowhere to be seen, but Bruce caught him briefly on camera a few minutes ago, grinning happily down at the infant cuddled in his arms. Cass is finishing off her sundae and making another doomed attempt to pay for it – the security camera shows her laughing silently when the attempt is thwarted. The lights of the Brown residence go out as he watches, and he imagines Stephanie settling into her bed and wishes her pleasant dreams. Tim is also making his way home, motorbike flashing past camera after camera, and Bruce can almost read his contentment in the way he drives.

And Damian has found another pet.

Bruce can’t help the small smile slipping over his face as he watches his youngest scrape mud and grit of his newest acquisition’s fur. Said fur is turning out to be a warm brown that may even dry into auburn. Regardless, it’s a good-looking animal, now that it’s halfway clean.

  
Bruce begins to take off the rest of the suit, idly wondering what Damian will name this one.


End file.
